fiction
Mystery, crime, murder, unsolved cases. Contribute your own tales of crime to Criminal.
The Stranger
The Stranger The atmosphere of the local surf-and-turf was perhaps not the most romantic setting for an important milestone. It was a warm crowded restaurant near the sea. The lighting was dim enough to hide the fact that most of the place hadn’t been thoroughly cleaned by the minimum wage staff who wore painfully forced smiles. The air was filled with cigarette smoke with a hint of fishiness. It was often crowded on the weekends, usually by footballers going in for a cheap pint, birthday celebrations, bachelorette parties, or cheap first dates which subsequently became last dates too.
By Maria Alban5 years ago in Criminal
Honor Amongst Thieves
Flannigan’s was the kind of establishment that could have been a cornerstone of the block, if not the whole neighborhood, but for a seedy edge that turned away the locals most nights. The place stank of spilled beer with an undercurrent of something rotten, and the timeworn sawdust did little to stop one’s feet from sticking to the floors while walking from the wobbly tables littered carelessly about the place to the grimy wood bar behind which a bartender casually passed out drinks. Patrons fell into two categories – shady or young, both groups feeling very at home in the dank drinking hall, and both wanting nothing to do with the other.
By Josh Wolfson5 years ago in Criminal
Memory Loss
It must have been the heat that woke her. Gravity pulled the beads of sweat that bubbled up from her pores down the sides of her face. Had it been this hot yesterday? She couldn't remember. She slowly opened her eyes. The dim light cascading haphazardly through the half-closed blinds was enough to cause an instant headache. She was photosensitive, as if she had been way too heavy on the drink the night before, but she didn't remember drinking. The unfamiliar hotel room was so latent with dust the particles formed a fixed film in the air.
By Alexi Hastings 5 years ago in Criminal
Where we plant the milkweed seeds its poison also grows
I’ve been keeping other people’s secrets all my life. I don’t know why people tell me things, but they do. Maybe ‘cause I’m good at listening. I’m a quiet listener. Just like how I’m quiet now, walking through the forest up in this little corner of Appalachia that I was born in— that I’m still stuck in.
By Lydia Jones5 years ago in Criminal
The Woman Made of Shadows
I’m staring at the book. I know I am. I also know I have been staring at it, without blinking, for way too long. All the words and letters are becoming unrecognizable and blurry. I can’t help it. I am so shocked and afraid of this little black notebook and the secrets it holds. It should be harmless but instead my stomach lurches as I continue staring, attempting to process what i’m reading.
By Cass Strange5 years ago in Criminal
On The House
The house looked old and weathered, not unlike Grandpa Jon when Jack had last seen him. Once warm and inviting, today it stood cold and empty with no one to welcome him, no Grandma to stuff him with warm food, no Grandpa to tell him stories by the fire. Jack had stopped by briefly before Grandpa’s funeral, but this was the first time he really took to examine the house. His house.
By Michael Bloom5 years ago in Criminal
James Smith
Saturday June 15th 05:56am Its our anniversary tomorrow, she wants to celebrate the loathsome occasion. I’ll have to buy her a present. The bitch doesn’t cook terribly and performs in bed well. I ordered makeup for her, god knows she needs it. Times like this I miss my ex I’m sick of her incessant whining. Speaking of ex’s, I need to check on her.
By Laura Graham 5 years ago in Criminal
A Stranger's Inheritance
“Your Honor, I did not kill him.” I sat alone now in my cell. The guard that was on duty had come by and removed my fellow incarcerated. Supposedly, the youth had his relative stop by the station to post bail. He had boasted to me that he had burgled a boutique the night before. Two hours and a baseball bat, and the absent-mindedness to not leave his wallet at home. The patrol picked him up after breakfast, and he was leaving before supper. I wonder how that was possible, but I presume it may be related to the distinctive embroidered L and V on his boots. It must be nice.
By Ari Groobman5 years ago in Criminal
